


I’ll Be Seeing You

by thefloragarden



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bittersweet, Dancing, F/M, Ficlet, Jazz - Freeform, Meeting, Melancholy, Optimism, Whiskey - Freeform, originally on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefloragarden/pseuds/thefloragarden
Summary: I’ve been in a super Jazz mood of late, and I’ve been listening to the great Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You and then this happened. This is for @polaroid-idiocity who’s been so enthusiastic and welcoming to me as I find my way into this space in the fandom! Thank you, I can’t even tell you much it’s meant to me! (I just realized I have no idea if you like Steve or not! Anyway, if you hate this, please ignore! It called out to be a Steve fic.)Originally on Tumblrhere.Please do not share anywhere else.





	I’ll Be Seeing You

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been in a super Jazz mood of late, and I’ve been listening to the great Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You and then this happened. This is for @polaroid-idiocity who’s been so enthusiastic and welcoming to me as I find my way into this space in the fandom! Thank you, I can’t even tell you much it’s meant to me! (I just realized I have no idea if you like Steve or not! Anyway, if you hate this, please ignore! It called out to be a Steve fic.)
> 
> Originally on Tumblr [here](https://floragardenfic.tumblr.com/post/184236925168/ill-be-seeing-you).
> 
> Please do not share anywhere else.

You’re thinking of closing up early. It’s Tuesday, never a busy night here, and it’s pouring. You haven’t had a customer in over a half hour, and it’s your place. You can do what you want.

Just as you change the music to your favorite jazzy playlist and you’re about to head out from behind the bar to flip the outside lights off, the door opens and a man walks in. Even soaked to the skin, you recognize him immediately. Captain America just walked into your Brooklyn bar. 

“Evening. You still open?”

You smile. “Of course. What can I get you, Captain?”

He closes his eyes briefly and then says, “Steve, please. Just Steve.”

“What can I get you, Steve?” you ask gently, and you’re unsurprised by his reply.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

You look at him for a long moment and then reach up to grab the Heaven Hill Green Label. You set the bottle down in front of him.

“You ever had this?”

He shakes his head, looking closely at the label.

“Try it,” you say, pouring a generous two fingers into a lowball glass. “If you hate it, I’ll drink it.”

He takes a sip, looks surprised and sips again, giving an appreciative hum. “That’s interesting.”

“You like?”

He nods. “It’s good.”

“I did a road trip every fall to Kentucky,” you say, pouring yourself a drink as well. It’s that kind of night. “You can only buy it there. They’ve discontinued it though, so I’ll have to find something else.”

Captain Rogers, no, Steve, looks sad for a moment. “All good things come to an end, I guess,” he says and you smile.

“True, but there’s always something new to come along,” you reply.

“Ahh,” he says, holding his glass up to the light as if seeking elusive wisdom found nowhere else. “You’re an optimist.”

You shrug, lean on the bar and take a sip, savoring the sting on your lips.

“Not usually,” you admit. “Rainy nights make me hopeful.”

He laughs at that, and you catch your breath. He’s beautiful in the low light of the bar, sharp jawline and blue eyes fringed with eyelashes that are truly ridiculous.

“How does that work?” he’s asking and you laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t know, something about the way it makes everything softer.” You reach behind you and pause the music for a moment. “Listen, just… listen.”

You sit quietly, the sounds of the city faint underneath the thrum of the rain against the roof and windows. You watch Steve listening, see the way he closes his eyes, puts all of himself into this moment, and sigh quietly to yourself. His face is sad in repose, like he’s waiting for something or someone, and you realize — whoever it is that he’s waiting for, they’re not coming back.

He opens his eyes as you turn up the music, and raises one eyebrow at you.

“Hey,” you say with a laugh, “It was already on before you came in, it’s not personal.” You look at him more closely. “I could change it, if you don’t like it?”

He shakes his head and says only, “I like it,” and drinks more whiskey. “Looks like you were planning on closing soon. I can get out of your hair if you want.”

You say quietly, “Take as long as you want. I’m gonna turn off the outside lights, but you don’t need to go.”

So he sits and drinks his whiskey while you close up around him, sweeping the floor, turning the chairs up onto the tables, wiping down the bar. You close out the register and turn down the lights, leaving the music playing, and then, as you recognize the song that’s coming on, you move over to him and hold out one hand.

“May I have this dance?” you ask, and he pauses and looks at you, really  _looks_  at you, and then a smile lights up his face.

“I’d be a fool to say no,” he says, tossing back the last of his drink, and rising to his feet, he pulls you into his arms.

Billie Holiday croons in the background as you circle and shift together, finding your rhythm. His arms tighten around you, and you turn your face into the damp white cotton of his dress shirt. He smells of laundry detergent and cologne and something else, and you hope you don’t smell too much like bar.

It’s not a long song and as Billie sings, “I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new,” his body stills and he pulls back, looks at you for a long moment, and then leans in.

Steve’s kiss is soft and strong, much like his heart, you think, and you realize you’re trembling as his mouth moves on yours. You wind your arms around his neck, press against him, but you know you can’t hold him here, so you don’t even try. It’s so sweet and gentle, tears spring to your eyes, and as the song fades, he lets you go and smiles, reaches up to skim his knuckles across your cheek.

And then he’s gone, the door shutting softly behind him as you stand alone in the bar, fingers pressed to your lips, and it’s the single most beautiful and bittersweet moment of your life.

_**I’ll be looking at the moon  
But I’ll be seeing you** _

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I really hope you enjoyed this, and if you do, a kudos or a comment would make my day! Even better, if you wanted to reblog this on Tumblr or just come say [hi,](https://floragardenfic.tumblr.com/), I'm new there and looking for friends!


End file.
